‘Nor is there a man in our army that’s had pay for the last twelvemonth.’ It’s the last of Oldhall’s charges.

And Richard bows his head at it.

‘Where is Beaufort now?’ Cecily asks.

‘Caen. But not for long, I think. We can’t hold it. We’ve nothing to throw at Charles’s army. Even if we had a leader with balls for a fight. He sent me as messenger boy back to England when we pulled out of Rouen. I think because he couldn’t stand the sight of my miserable face any longer.’

‘To ask for more money and men, no doubt.’ Richard’s voice is cold.

Oldhall nods.

‘And they were sent?’

He nods again, grudging. ‘Too little. Too late. The money straight into Somerset’s pocket, I expect.’

She watches Richard’s knuckles flex and whiten, his throat rise as he closes his teeth on resentment. She wonders how he bears it so silently. ‘Richard. We—’

He holds up a hand, frowns. ‘I think William has more to tell us.’

‘Aye. I do.’ The old man spreads his hands, as if the cause might be in them. They come up empty and he sighs. ‘France is bad enough, God knows. But what I saw at home …’ He looks away.

She sees that Richard’s eyes are on her still. ‘Go on,’ he says.

‘My lord, I hardly recognize England, or the men about the King. But I know them to be no friends of yours. They’re keeping you in the dark.’

‘Who? Exactly.’

He shuffles. It’s hard to say it. ‘For a start, one who should be a friend. Captain under John of Bedford when first we knew him. Duke of Suffolk now.’ He is not the first to marvel at this change in fortune. ‘William de la Pole. William de la Pole and his lickspittle cronies.’

She watches Richard’s bitter smile, the slow shake of his head. ‘You’ve been too long out of England if that surprises you, old friend,’ he says.

‘Well, I have. It does. He whispers in the King’s ear against you.’

‘How so?’ she asks, and sees Oldhall almost startle at the sharpness in her voice.

‘When I came to court with my begging bowl –’ he allows himself a snarl – ‘the King turned straight to Suffolk and asked, what could be sent. As if Suffolk directed England’s armies, not him. Then he asked Suffolk if York should be recalled from Ireland and sent to France. Never a better man for France, the King says. No, no, says Suffolk. Too busy in Ireland, says Suffolk. Too much a friend of the King of France. Ah, well, says the King. But we shall write and ask for his counsel. And he calls a scribe and has him write away, and me standing there. And he gives the letter to Suffolk. And I’ll wager you’ve never seen it.’